Charley and the Coase Theorem
by mylittleeconomy
Summary: Charley finds the last of five golden cores in a toffee apple, offering him a visit to Sweet Apple Acres. He might even be able to meet the mysterious Applejack... Now Charley must make that most quintessential of economic actions: a choice.


On a rain-battered street in a dim, shuttered-off quadrant of Longedon, the sort that makes ponies laugh nervously about how _that_ room isn't quite finished yet, a young colt stepped out into the gloom. Unshielded by a rain-coat or an umbrella, he made his way past the despondent street-sweeps huddled under an overhang, dodging splashing carts as he went.

Curious observers might wonder why a young colt had decided to brave a storm like this. Observant observers might wonder why the young colt had such a look of singular intent upon his face.

He stepped into a candy shop. The owner awoke with a grunt.

"You again, Charley Horse?" he said, eyeing the young colt suspiciously. "Best have some money this time."

Charley slapped a fistful of bits onto the counter. It was money he had earned from scrounging, scrimping, and squeezing every bit for what it was worth, a practice his grandfather proudly called The Three Esses. "That's how we get by, Charley, you and me and everyone else in this forgotten city-within-a-city," he would say, "O the world she is wretched sometimes but how she does try," and so on and so forth. It was also money Charley had earned from slaving for rich old mares, sobbing to rich old mares, and stealing from rich old mares. The Other, More Reliable Three Esses, Charley privately thought. It was money he had earned for a reason.

"One Toffee Apple, please," he said.

The owner had his doubts about the money, but he didn't doubt that it was money. It disappeared into a drawer, and he plucked a Toffee Apple from a plate.

It deserved the capitalization. Sweet Apple Acres' Toffee Apples were bright red like a warning flag about their health effects and coated in a thick, sticky caramelized sugar that sealed your jaw shut for a happy experience that lasted hours and did a lot for the income of dentists. Yet the toffee somehow melted in your mouth if you could just get it past your teeth, yielding a flavor so rich and complex that candy makers across the nation spent years striving to reproduce the secret recipe the Apple family published in their cookbooks that you could buy most anywhere. And of course underneath the toffee you had a Sweet Apple Acres apple, which was worth its weight in cocaine and often compared to it.

But that wasn't why Charley wanted a Toffee Apple. He was after a golden core.

He got it.

"Cor," said the owner, agog. "Is that…."

"A golden core?" Charley struggled around a mouthful of toffee. "Yes, it is."

"I never thought I'd see one in my shop," the owner admitted, staring at the gooey golden mess. "In my little shop." He chuckled. "There's only five of those in the whole world, you know, and you've found the last one. You'll be going to Sweet Apple Acres. What I would have given when I was a colt your age to catch a glimpse of that magical farm. I suppose you'll be meeting Applejack, then?" He sounded nervous, like the prospect of anypony meeting her was a thought too exciting to bear.

"I suppose that's the idea," Charley said. "Say, what would you have given anyway?"

"Huh?" The shopkeeper glared at him. "Don't be smart with me. That core was found in my shop, which makes it my property. I didn't know what I was selling you—get back here!"

Charley ran out into the rain, the golden core hidden within his mouth. Holding onto a very scarce resource was a very scary prospect, which made what he did next a lot easier.

* * *

The next day a golden core went up for auction. Charley, his grandfather and the rest of their family watched the numbers climb. One hundred bits, one thousand, ten thousand….

What they were competing for Charley didn't know. The status of being associated with Sweet Apple Acres? A rare opportunity? The prospect of learning the public secrets of the Apple family, or simply a love of apples?

Charley didn't know. He didn't really care, either. His grandfather topped off his milk.

"Well done, my boy," he said. "I always said, if you stick by the Three Esses, the Rainbow smiles upon you."

Charley sipped his milk and said nothing. The numbers continued to rise.

Ponies are diverse. What they want to do with a resource might not be what you want to do with a resource, and that might work out well for the both of you.


End file.
